


Tighter

by morroripper



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Father/Son Incest, I literary don't know there's not enough of anyhting to tag it as something, Incest, M/M, finding comfort in being owned, not just pet play pet is just title
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 10:27:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18776422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morroripper/pseuds/morroripper
Summary: Dante panics without his collar.read https://archiveofourown.org/series/1355092by problematicuser69 first





	Tighter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [problematicuser69](https://archiveofourown.org/users/problematicuser69/gifts).



The red mark was a burning reminder of the leather collar that just few moments ago was dressing his bare neck, and without it Dante felt truly bare. Every inch of his body exposed for world to see. Except right now, his world was restricted to the four walls of his father's bedroom, or even more narrow, to bed he was laying in.

His eyes closed, his mind focused on the feather light touch of fingers slowly moving over irritated red skin as it slowly healed before the hand closed around his throat, putting pressure on his airways. Dante opened his mouth, trying to get more air. It was difficult, and yet without protest, he stayed still against the minor abuse. Not looking. Not wishing to see. Knowing well he would lose the moment he see his lovers - or owner's? - eyes.

“Good pet. You're behaving exceptionally well today.” Said the Demon King in low tone, his thumb brushing delicate skin of his son’s throat before finally letting go, allowing him to breathe again. The red stripe had been replaced by bruises left by a tight grip.

“Is it too tight for you?” Sparda asked playfully. There was no reply. Dante was not supposed to speak now. His father gave him an order and so he - unusually for himself - obeyed. Tired of fighting, he let his instincts to submit take over. Just this one time. Out of curiosity, he explained to himself. 

Submission did not fit Dante. He was full of fire and anger directed at everything around him and a big part of it was still kept for Sparda. But his body betrayed him the moment the collar was taken off. Losing a symbol of ownership should give him sense of freedom, but it just filled him with fear. He wanted it back, it was his collar, it was a sign that he was his Father's pet. And now, without it, he felt like he needs to prove it more than before. What if his father decided Dante was not worthy of such a name? That he’s too unruly or even ungrateful?

He wanted to laugh. There was nothing to be grateful for. If anything, Sparda owed him everything, that bastard.

The weight on bed shifted and together with it, Dante was pulled to lay close against Sparda’s chest, his father's arm holding him close. His warmth and smell made Dante feel drunk. He wanted so much more. He could hear the blood running through his veins. His mouth watered as he imagined the muscle of his heart just centimeters away. He will rip him open one day and take it in his hands. He needs to see if it really beats only for him.

“You are awfully quiet.” The older demon said, brushing his knuckles against the ridges of Dante’s spine as the young one curled against him. “You never tend to listen to what I say, so why now?”

Sparda raised an eyebrow, yet there was no reply. On instinct, Dante reached for his neck, looking for something to keep him from panicking in such a peaceful moment. His mother's medallion was not there and the collar was still in Sparda's possession. It dawned to him how naked he really was, stripped from every last amenity.

His father tightened the embrace. Dante was small in his arms, clearly hurt by something his father failed to see. The older demon was scared of him when Dante acted like this. It was human. It was pure and seemingly untainted. Sparda felt like his presence here was uncalled for, just like in the past he thought it would be better to back away. To leave Dante be and live with the anger that followed. He could deal with Dante’s fire and venom. He could never deal with his tears. How pathetic is a parent who is unable to wipe children's ’ tears when they cry. But after all, devils don’t cry.

 

The younger one clearly sensed his intentions or rather, felt the embrace loosening around him. The only thing that seemed to keep him together in this moment.

“Don't!” He spat through clenched throat and gritted teeth, not sure whether to cry or scream, angry that his father wanted to leave yet again. But in the end, it was the human heart being too soft and hurt to bear the weight much longer, and he broke down. Holding onto the older one weakly, the tears escaped him even against his closed eyes.

Sparda was at a loss seeing that, remembering how much it hurt him to see Dante like this. Even more so that now he was the only possible reason for it. Carefully, he ran his hand through Dante's hair and leaned close to him, hesitantly placing soft kiss on his lips. From there, he licked the tears off his cheek.

“I feel helpless when I see you like this.” He said and kissed Dante's forehead, seeing the tears still fall. “Even more so than when I had to leave you.”

He embraced his son again, which seemed to bring the opposite effect of what he hoped for as Dante's body was shaking. He finally let go and cried in Sparda's arms.

Sparda felt disgusting. Right now, he preferred to be anywhere else but here; In his own bed, holding the person he cares so deeply about.

“Dante, stop crying.” He said, trying to hide his irritation. It was not directed at Dante.

Dante was not supposed to hear it in Sparda's voice, but he did, and it worked at least. He stayed quiet and tense, but Sparda did not have to listen to him cry anymore, and so his father sighed in relief.

“You are mine.”

Yes, Dante was. He let himself smile as he felt familiar pressure around his neck. The collar was locked tightly on him again, making it impossible to think of anything else. And he was grateful for that.

He opened his eyes just to see his father leaving the room,and Dante was soon alone. He reached with one hand to touch the stones decorating the leather. It calmed his heart and he could breathe again. He belongs to his father.

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic and attempt at writing, hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
